trashy novels make me laugh. they always try to disguise sex as something other than what it is, that it's some sort of nirvana to be attained. yet another lie and disillusion -- fucking is fucking. there is no hiding from the sheer animalistic quality of sex. i suppose being literal about it would have made it cold and clinical, not at all making love.
i have yet to understand how love enters into the concept of sex. if sex can exist without love (or the illusion of it), love can exist without sex. yet these novels seem to say that sex is an integral part of love. they are two entirely separate concepts which are all too often interchanged. my ideal of love transcends sex; it's the same sort of distinction kundera made between sex and sleeping together.
yes, sleeping together is representative of love. i find it highly satisfying, more so, in fact, than sex could ever be (well, it's close). people are most vulnerable when they're asleep. to let someone observe such a weakness, and even offer an opportunity to take advantage of it, is love. sex makes love fun but sex isn't love at all.
